


NaNoWriMo Week 1—November 8th, 2015

by politicalmamaduck



Series: November 2015 NaNoWriMo Challenge [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Political Asylum, Refugees, US Senate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:24:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5170517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmamaduck/pseuds/politicalmamaduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The country of Rohan is torn apart by terrorists from Mordor. Éowyn, along with refugees from her country, seeks to meet with Senator Padmé Amidala to ask for foreign aid and a condemnation of the terrorism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	NaNoWriMo Week 1—November 8th, 2015

**Author's Note:**

> My writing challenge in honor of National Novel Writing Month was to write a fandom crossover short story each week. This week's characters were Éowyn and Padmé Amidala.

The woman was regal in her bearing, stately and composed, as she walked by. She stood straight and tall despite her diminutive stature; a woman who was used to being listened to when she spoke, to getting what she wanted, Éowyn thought.

Her application for immigration and refugee status would depend on this woman, she somehow knew. But who she was, how powerful she was, Éowyn did not know.

It had been a very long journey.

After the terrorists from Mordor had crossed the border, Éowyn knew it was only a matter of time until they reached Edoras, her country’s capital. The stream of now homeless, displaced, struggling people did not cease, and she knew that their pursuers would not be far behind. It was heartbreaking to watch children cry for their parents, to see the desperation in which mothers searched each corner of the Golden Hall of Meduseld for children from whom they had been separated on the journey.

Éowyn herself had given the order to evacuate the city. From there, she did not know where they would go; which country would offer them asylum and let them in. Thousands of refugees from Rohan, now homeless, with nothing left to them but what they could carry, their prize-winning horses—their livelihoods—stolen away from them in the night. She had the ancient tapestry of the House of Eorl, her ancestral house and the royal house of Rohan, rolled up in the bottom of her bag, with what little she had the prescience to grab. She should have known better. She knew their people did not have the strength to fight. Not in the face of such evil. The Riders of Rohan remained, her country’s greatest fighters, including her beloved brother Éomer, but the country which they defended was gone.

There was nothing left to do but to wait for a Senator to listen.

She saw a few staffers walking towards the office into which the regal woman had just walked. Seizing an opportunity, she stepped forward, saying “Excuse me, do you have a minute?”

…

Senator Amidala closed her office door, sinking into her chair behind her desk.

Her heart ached for the Rohirrim refugees. Their land had been taken away from them, bombed into desolation by terrorist suicide bombers from Mordor calling themselves the Uruk-Hai. They seemed to seek the unmitigated destruction of any who dared be in their path to more territory; many political prognosticators were loath to admit that the oil and coal rich lands of Mordor were utterly destroyed with atmospheric pollution, chemicals leeching into the riverbeds, and a dearth of arable land. Thus the Uruk-Hai, standing in place of an army from Mordor, sought to conquer the fertile fields and plains of the Rohirrim and utilize their proud steeds for labor in their factories belching black smoke, rather than sacrificing their own population to such deadly conditions. Due to most conscripts into the Mordorian army being forced to serve as their Lord Sauron’s personal bodyguards and serve as watchmen along the country’s borders, the government was able to claim plausible deniability for any involvement with the terrorist cells and toed the line of the United States’ list of state sponsors of terrorism.

Meanwhile, the people of Rohan were streaming into the neighboring countries, desperate for asylum, for a place to regain their breath and dignity. Thousands were dying daily from malnutrition, dehydration, and other completely preventable diseases. It seemed as though nothing could stem the tide of people fleeing the devastation, and few countries dared to lift a border to allow them to immigrate, wrapped up in their own concerns about the economy and xenophobia about immigrants. She knew that many looked down upon the Rohirrim for being poor; they were known mainly for their horse breeding, many dressage champions riding upon a great Rohirrim mare. Beyond that, their tapestries, wool, and weaving were also highly regarded, but Edoras was no grand capital of world banking the way Coruscant was. She had corrected quite a few of her colleagues who had referred to Rohan as being “in the third world” already today.

She sighed, taking a sip of her tea.

“Send in the next petitioner,” she said. “My lady, we have received an urgent request from the Lady Éowyn of Rohan,” Dormé said, hesitantly.

The Lady Éowyn, niece to the king of Rohan, had become known as “the White Lady of Rohan”, doggedly meeting with senators and ambassadors and NGO presidents, begging any and all who would listen to help her people. She was gracious and kind, Padmé knew, and certainly persistent in refusing to stay silent about the rejection of help for her people’s plight.

Padmé had wondered when she would finally have the opportunity to meet with the White Lady. Her schedule had been packed, and she didn’t sit on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Her staff well knew how she felt about the Rohan situation, however, and they all themselves had been refugees when the Trade Federation embargoed Naboo several years before.

“I am grateful that you listened to her request,” said Padmé. “You may send her in; offer refreshments to those waiting and tell them I will be with them shortly.”

“Yes, my lady,” said Dormé, with a faint smile, as if she couldn’t help but know her boss’s proclivities for the weak and downtrodden of the world.

As the Lady Éowyn entered, Padmé was taken aback by how thin and pale she looked, quite different from the clips she had seen of Rohirrim press conferences and the photo in her official personnel file as a member of the Rohirrim government.

Her heart ached to see such a bright young woman with such political potential suffering so. It only became worse as she asked the White Lady pointed questions about how the situation in her country had deteriorated after consistent bombings and night raids by the Uruk-Hai.

After she had finished, Padmé clasped Éowyn’s hands in her own, knowing instantly what she was going to say all along. “If it is within my power, I will do anything and everything to help your people. We cannot sit idly by while terrorists rampage and destroy an entire country. I will put pressure on the Senate to pass a resolution denouncing the terrorists and ask for monetary and humanitarian aid to be sent to Rohan for the remaining population. In the meantime, I will personally sponsor your visa application.”

“I am so grateful, Senator Amidala,” said Éowyn. “How will I ever be able to thank you? The Rohirrim will honor you once we have regained our lands and resources, but until then, I have little to offer you in return for your generosity and kindness.”

“I know what it is like to watch my people suffer and have my hands tied, waiting on a bureaucracy to condemn our oppressors. I cannot bear to see another people suffering as the Naboo once did. In the meantime, where are you staying? Coruscant can be very expensive.”

At that, Éowyn looked into Padmé’s eyes, and she could see the trace of a smile on her lips.

They continued to converse as Padmé walked Éowyn out, with a promise to personally follow-up with her on their progress.

And as she walked away, Padmé knew that someday, despite such adversity, the White Lady of Rohan would make her mark on the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments with constructive feedback greatly appreciated! As soon as these two characters were picked from my pile this idea came to me pretty instantaneously; I was very excited to be writing these two strong women. You can find me on tumblr at politicalmamaduck.tumblr.com!


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